One Bad Day
by Anabel Sinclair
Summary: There's only so much bad karma Leon can carry in one day...right? T just to be safe


Writer's block for months and when I do get something, behold! a fluff bunny....

Ah well, I couldn't resist.

Okay, the usual housekeeping stuff.

**Disclaimer**: I do NOT own....

Contains: Language (Leon is and will always be a potty mouth.) Implied Shounen/ai...a little angst.

One Bad Day

It was nine o'clock Monday morning and Flanagan's corollary to Murphy's Law was already looking like a happy prospect. Detective Leon Orcot swore foully at the driver in front of him, an eighty something year old woman, who it seemed had a hearing problem- how else couldn't she hear the long line of honking in her wake? She was crawling at less than twenty miles per hour and he was already two hours late for work; it was evaluation day for crying out loud and-oh hell the traffic light just turned yellow…again. The blonde sighed and banged his bead back against the headrest for the umpteenth time. Sure he was already nursing a throbbing headache and it was only going to get worse once he stepped into the precinct but what else was he going to do?

First he'd overslept and woken up with the mother of a hangover (no more Sunday night football celebrations for him) and then Chris had chosen the perfect day to come down with a vicious sore throat. So of course they had to rush to the ER, what with the kid's whining, and sat for over forty five minutes only for the doctor to prescribe painkillers, lozenge and bed-rest. There was no way the detective could take another sick day off and that meant he had no choice but to trudge on over to Chinatown, where that she-male cross dresser had the _nerve_ to yell at him for not taking proper care of his brother… well at least he'd agreed to take care of the boy (though between the Count, his bat bunny and that damn man eating goat, Leon wasn't so sure it was a great idea). And now….just when he thought it couldn't get any worse-

"Oh fuck no! Betty, no, don't you dare-"

Too late. With a sigh and an almighty shudder, the old clunker stalled to a halt. Leon Orcot was by no means superstitious (except maybe during March Madness, Football season, Basketball playoffs…and the odd world series or two) but he was seriously beginning to wonder whether he'd broken any mirrors recently or walked under any ladders. There was that black cat but it was in D's pet shop- hell, the bastard was probably behind all this.

"Dammit!"

He grabbed his gun from the glove compartment and got out of the car, slamming the door for good measure before remembering too late. She shook all over and went totally still, leaving the belabored lawman muttering half hearted apologies. Well, nothing more to do than take the bus. Leon was quite positive that with his special band of luck, some itinerant tow truck would come breezing by just in time to tow his car away; in fact he counted on it because no one was going to steal such a disreputable looking thing, not even in the worst parts of the city.

"''elp!"

He jerked around automatically, catching he mugger's flight from the corner of his eye just as his legs kicked into gear. Leon was distantly glad for this development- at least he now had someone to take out his bad day on. Unfortunately, the idiot took it upon himself to give the blonde a six block work out before giving up and dumping the man purse- wait a minute, _man purse_? The detective frowned critically at the bag, deciding that he'd been spending way too much time around D if he could identify the accessory at a glance.

The owner was still standing in the same position, and incidentally his car was just being towed, by the time Leon made it back.

"Thank you very much! You 'ave no idea how much value zis has to me!"

He was short and chubby, his frazzled red hair peppered generously with streaks of grey. The detective nodded wearily and handed it over. "It's alright, just doing my duty."

"Ah so you are a police officer no? It explains your tenacity, like ze dog with a bone, no?"

The blonde raised an eyebrow at the heavy French accent. "Er…yeah…whatever."

"But I must thank you properly"

Leon espied the bus just in time and made a dash for it. "Thanks but have to- look I gotta run. Keep a hand on that bag." He broke into a run and made it just in time. At least something was going right.

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It was a visibly older Leon Orcot that descended the steps leading to the pet shop. The only good thing about his day was that it was finally over. First his bus had mysteriously broken down midway to the precinct, leaving him no choice but to walk the rest of the way. He'd gotten to work a whopping three hours late only to face a frothing at the mouth Chief because the Commish had paid them a surprise visit and guess who wasn't at his work desk? The lead on their current case had suddenly clammed up and no amount of cajoling or threats would make her talk.

He could pretty much sum up what his evaluation would look like. No promotion, no pay raise, no moving to a better part of town for Chris, scratch the plans for a nice vacation next summer… Leon sighed heavily and shook his head. At least he'd remembered to get something for D at the bakery- heaven knows the Count's whining was the LAST thing he needed now. The detective pushed the door open and walked in, especially glad for the calming scents that pervaded his nose. "Hey."

The Count turned around and favored him with a frosty smile. "Hello Detective. Well if you're going to ruin- I mean be present for lunch, please tell me that is chocolate cake."

Leon scowled, brandishing the box in one hand. "Well if that's the attitude I get, maybe I should just return it and get my money back? Or better yet, how about Chris and I eat every morsel in front of you?"

D paled visibly, both hands reaching to rescue said pastry. "You wouldn't dare!"

"_Big brother_!"

Leon turned just in time to see the mass of boy and got barreling toward him but it was too late. The box slid off his fingers, amidst the Count's blood curdling scream, and crashed into a bird cage. They all watched with dismay as the moist chocolate cake disintegrated unto the floor.

"_I-I'm so sorry_." Chris trembled tearfully, fearing a reprimand from his brother or even worse, but the detective's face was trained on their host. Leon felt something in him twist at the heart broken expression on the Count's face and suddenly, the culminating effect of his phenomenally bad day came crashing on his shoulders. It was the last straw and his psyche couldn't handle any more. D turned to the sniffling boy with a wan smile. "It couldn't be helped Chris; you shouldn't cry over ruined cake."

Leon growled and made a sharp u-turn, ignoring his brother's gasp and the Count's call.

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Ten minutes of kicking the fire hydrant left the Detective with little more than a sore foot. The bakery had sold the last batch of the chocolate cake just before he got there….what better ending for such a wonderful story? He couldn't bear the churning in his gut; yes it had been a royally shitty day but he'd had bad days before. He was a big boy and dealt with stuff like this all the time…but having his bard karma spill unto others- to D, was just-

"I remember you! You're ze policeman from this morning."

Leon looked up to see the man-purse guy. "Oh yeah… Hi."

The older man looked around him askance. "Are you also waiting for ze bus?"

He sighed and shook his head. "No, just thinking…where's your bag?" He noticed that the man purse was nowhere around.

"Yes zat is what I'm going back to get. You see, I left my portmanteau at the training centre and I simply must 'urry back before someone discovers it and steals my recipe. Speaking of which, I believe you should come with me for protection."

The detective deadpanned as the Frenchman began tugging him forward. "First of all, I'm off duty and second, why the hell would I follow you anywhere? Your recipe, your problem."

The older man made an affronted sound, much like the one D normally made whenever Leon put his feet up on the coffee table. "Not just any recipe- ze secret recipe to my world famous caramelized fruit cake! You 'ave no idée how many people would like to get their 'ands on Hortense Delacriox's creation."

Leon had to admit that the name did ring a bell but why, he didn't know. "Okay fine, whatever. If the purse is gone though, you'll have to find your way to the precinct on your own." He wasn't feeling very welcome back there, not after the fiasco with his boss.

The bus ride was mercifully uneventful and the detective didn't indulge his urge to let a few rounds loose into anyone's ass. They made it to the small building complex and he cast a doubtful glance at the old man. It was getting late and Chris would probably be worried, not to mention D would throw a hissy fit for having to keep him so long….

Hortense opened the door and they walked into a hall; he was instantly assailed by the most divine aromas ever. There were roast beef smells and buttery baked potato smells and cake smells and pie smells…Leon's stomach rumbled appreciatively and the Frenchman laughed. "All day my students were hard at work making creations zat will be showcased at a dinner event tomorrow. Ah! Here we are."

He pointed toward the bag hanging from a hook on the wall but the detective was oblivious to the action. Leon stared, transfixed, at a work of art hanging on the wall just ahead. It was a cake but damn! He swallowed from just looking at the confection and muttered absently. "There's no way it looks that good in real life."

Hortense smiled knowingly and nodded. "It is my greatest culinary work, le bisou d'ange, my caramelized fruit cake. Zat is a larger than life photography of course, but I assure you zat it looks even better. In fact-" He gestured for the detective to follow into an adjoining hall, which turned out to be a grand kitchen. "Welcome to Hortense Delacroix bi-annual école du cuisine, where I teach the most promising of young chefs and pâtissiers the beauty of the arte." He finished with a flourish and made for a large refrigerator, reemerging with a frosted glass bell-top. "Viola! See for yourself."

Leon peered beyond the glass with widening eyes. It really was beautiful, better than anything the bakery could ever produce. For a moment he could imagine the look on Count Prissy's face if he turned up with one of these…from the looks of it though, it was probably expensive and he had no idea how much the impound fees on his car would be…he tore his eyes away. "Wow…that's…wow."

Hortense set the cake down on a long table with a sigh. "It is my most famous work of art and certainly my most troublesome. I used to own a big café in Luz; people would queue for days just to get a slice. I had rich businessmen and royalty even, try to buy ze recipe off me for ridiculous amounts of money. One man wanted to mass produce my cake and open chain stores all over ze world. Some people even tried to steal my recipe or even worse, kill me for it! They don't understand zat le bisou d'ange is so beautiful because of love. I put all my love into my creations; my very first cake was out of love. But they don't understand…it is why I 'ave these training with ze young ones now."

Leon nodded slowly; he got what the old man was trying to say…kinda. It was like how he'd get up from bed to face tomorrow even after going through the grind like this… and for so many reasons too. Their eyes met and the Frenchman grinned. "Le Bisou was supposed to be my premier cadeu to ze best student tomorrow but…I give zis to you."

The detective was startled out of his thoughts. "Wha- but I thought you said it's for your showcase! I mean you went through all the trouble and this looks like a lot of trouble.'

Hortense waved away his protest and pushed the cake in his direction. "Like you Americans say, it takes one to know one, no? I always put my love into Le Bisou; there is love in ze making and there should be love in ze eating. Besides, ze student would prefer a big préconisation but I believe that you and I are in understanding. D'accord, no?"

He winked knowingly and the blonde blushed. "No, wait! I don't-"

But the Frenchman had already moved off to another table. "Let me find something appropriate to put this in- présentation is the most important part of being a pâtissier."

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D cut off his pacing with a murmur of relief when the door gently swung open and the detective emerged from the darkness, bearing a small paper bag.

"Hey."

The Count decided that the human looked contrite enough, biting back the tirade that was poised to fly out of his mouth. "Welcome back Detective, your brother has been worried sick."

_I have been worried sick_

Leon rubbed the back of his neck and made a small sound of chagrin. "Yeah…sorry for leaving him here for so long; I know you've probably had it up to here with us imposing-"

"Detective!"

He stopped short, startled by the Chinaman's suddenly strident tone. "Yeah."

"Please stop pacing and have a seat. It simply won't do if you wear a hole through my rug. I'll fetch Chris for you; he fell asleep a short while ago." D made toward the back but froze from the contact of a warmed, calloused hand over his wrist.

"Wait."

They both glanced at their joined hands at the same time and quickly broke apart, as though scalded. Leon cleared his throat and pushed the paper bag toward the Count. "Erm…for you. Sorry about the last one." He watched as D's expression shifted from confusion to utter shock, and then wild delight as his fingers eagerly made short work of the box wrapping to reveal-

"Caramelized fruit cake! The greatest creation of world famous pâtissier, Hortense Delacroix, He only makes about five of them in a year – how on earth did you…"

Leon couldn't help grinning as wide bi-colored eyes fixed upon him with as though he knew all the secrets of the universe. "Let's just say one good turn deserves another. Now how about you cut me a slice of that- you won't believe the kind of day I had."

The Count nodded vigorously, for once not minding the human's bossy tone. "Of course- I'll make tea. I believe jasmine will go best with this…"

The detective laughed quietly and shut his eyes. At least things were finally looking up.

"Detective…Leon?"

His eyes snapped open, only to be caught in the Chinaman's stare.

"It is my pleasure to look after Chris…and thank you."

Their gaze lingered for longer than a moment, longer than a heartbeat, and then the detective forced his eyes to glare at the twittering bat-bunny. "Um, thanks…and you're welcome."

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The End

**Murphy's Law (Short version):** Whatever can go wrong, will go wrong.

**Flanagan's Corollary:** Murphy was an incurable optimist.


End file.
